


Another 4452 Years (And 3 Months, and 10 Days)

by Bfly1225



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, reverse omens - Fandom
Genre: Angel Crowley, Demon Aziraphale, Fallen! Corviel, M/M, Pain, no really man its pain i prmise, reverse au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 01:10:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20381212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bfly1225/pseuds/Bfly1225
Summary: “It’s not nothing, Ziraphon, I knew you for six thousand years before I Fell, I know something’s wrong with you.” Ziraphon doesn’t like the casual drop of the time Before he Fell.“That’s not fair. You know that’s not fair.”“I’m not gonna apologise.” Corviel replied softly.“Of course not.”AKAIt's been 4452 years since Corviel fell. And they've finally gotten used to eachother's company, but. . . things are left unresolved for them.





	Another 4452 Years (And 3 Months, and 10 Days)

Ziraphon took in a breath, deep and placeholding. Where was he? Who was he?

The second breathe comes wrapped around a cigarette. A shitty habit to pick up in this age- they’re dreadful expensive. He’s not worried about his body- it wouldn't deteriorate. It could take its fair share of abuse- had already, really. Opium, tobacco, alcohol, no short list of party drugs and hallucinogens that he would never own up to trying. Though, he’d try justs about anything once. Eternity would be pretty drab without variety, he figures.

Currently, for this portion of the story, it is several thousand years after the Armageddon that Didn’t. London had changed in a myriad of ways, and stayed the same in just as many. Humanity is the same way as the city they’ve created, in that way. He glances at his companion. They are on the rooftop of an old, old building. Soho, London. He passes the cigarette. His partner takes a long drag of it, flicking the ashes into an ashtray smuggled up the roof access stairs. This has been the scene for a while. They’ve hardly exchanged a word so far. They feel they don’t need to. First the other had taken the ever-full package from his jacket, and Ziraphon lit it, and they would share it. Somehow this is more intimate than anything. Divulging in what should be the destruction of their own bodies from the same vessel, passed from lips to fingers to fingers to lips. What would be, if they were human, a slow shared suicide.

Millenia ago, things had been positively perfect. Heaven and Hell had, officially, backed the fuck off. Ziraphon had moved into the recordshop owned by his angel. His angel, because they’d finally actually laid their feelings to the open. Everything was quite alright, for a long while. An easy time, a simple time. Ziraphon spent his time as a peacock lounging in the store as Corviel bustled about, helping customers and tidying things. Ziraphon even played the piano sometimes, instead of causing chaos. He’d been working himself up to telling Corviel that he’d made the piano just because he wanted Corivel to be happy, even, which he’d never have even considered a little while ago. That was the state of things, and, strictly speaking, it was a good state, even for a demon like him.

It took ten years for _it_ to happen.

For the angels to come, ripping holes in reality and dragging Corviel to heaven. And, as frank as that line is was how it felt. One moment, he was there, and the next, gone. Even the sounds of his screams swallowed as if they were never even made, as if the angel had never been there in the very first place. Ziraphon sat for a second, eyes wide open, mouth agape as he stared at the spot Corviel had been

_. . . . Corvi? He’d croaked out eventually. CORVIEL?!_ He’d screamed, right after that. He had fallen to his knees, crying, sobbing, screaming. They were going to kill him, kill the angel that was the best of them, and Ziraphon couldn’t live without him.

He’d only been able to shakily stand, unaware of time passing, or if it was passing at all, but when he looked up to the sky, he saw something shoot across the sky, something with wings on fire, turning black leaving streaking lines of ash in the air.

Something humanoid.

Corviel.

The demon, disregarding everything, let his wings appear from the ethereal plane to bring him to Croviel, faster because that was his angel, falling. Not just falling, Falling, as in he was being stripped of his ethereal power and being cast out to be taken in by Hell. T

he memory was hard to recall. Zirpahon remembered his head hurting, from crying and screaming earlier. Zirpahon remembered reaching his love, but the falling angel with on fire, and was moving so fast. Ziraphon tried to slow him down but it was no use- before either being knew it, Corviel was in an impact crater, and Ziraphon was picking him up, tucking his head in his lap, trying desperately not to cry.

_Ziraphon_? Corviel had asked, frowning up at him.

_I’m here_. He’d replied.

_You caught me._ Corviel croaked, smiling.

_Of course I did, Angel. Of course I did_. Ziraphon assured him.

A moment of silence.

_It burns. It burns a lot._

_I know, dearest, just. . . close your eyes. Focus on being alright. You’ll be alright._

_I Fell._ Corviel croaked, frowning. _How can I be okay_?

_It’s okay, I caught you. We’re going to work this out, okay_? Ziraphon gently wiped dirt from Corviel’s face. _I fell, you’ll survive_.

The truth was that Ziraphon didn’t know, not all angels survived the Fall. No angels knew that, of course, until they were lying in their impact crater, wings bent in ways wings aren’t meant to bend, entire body burning, sulfur coursing in their veins and they know they are facing their final moments alone and disgraced.

_. . . Alright. I love you_. Corviel opening and closing his fingers weakly. Ziraphon grabbed his hand gently. _. . . I think I broke my leg._

_That’s alright. We’ll get it splinted in a moment_. Ziraphon assured him. 

_How long is a moment_?

_About 60 seconds, angel_.

_Oh, ha-ha, very funny_. He replied, dryly. Corivel squeezed Ziraphon’s hand weakly, who squeezed back. He couldn’t even imagine the pain Corviel was in.

Well, he didn’t need to- he’d fallen once, after all. It felt like fire in your veins, felt like someone tearing out every feather in your wings individually, felt like someone stuffed your head full of cotton and set it ablaze. The only way most could ever describe it was horrible burning, the kind that tends to stay with you when you sleep or haven’t moved for a while. The kind that intensifies during certain kinds of oppressive weather. The kind that floods your mind at night to give you night terrors. The kind Ziraphon could still feel in himself to this day. 

_I know. I’m hilarious_.

_I’m worried, Ziraphon. I never- I never asked you to marry me, I never- Brought you to Paris, and never had you do all the sappy, tourist-y things. We never toured the world_-

_Corviel, you are going to survive this. You are not going to die, and I’m going to take you to Paris, and you can drag me on all the touristy things, and you can propose, and we’ll get married in the spring because you’ve always said you love the idea of a spring wedding_. And tears were streaming down his face. _Because I love you, dearest_. And he was holding Corviel close.

_I love you_. Tears rolled down Corviel’s cheeks that burned Ziraphon’s thighs as he whispered this like a prayer. _I love you, I love_-

_I love you too_\- Ziraphon was crying too, because he was so afraid, so in pain. And for a second, Corviel’s eyes flickered shut and he drew in a shaky breath, and was still.

Ziraphon was convinced he was dead, screaming his name into the sky, cursing the Almighty, begging Her to strike him down this instant so he didn’t have to live in a world devoid of his angel.

_Why are you crying, Ziraphon?_

“Why are you staring off into space?” The demon next to Ziraphon on the roof asked, motioning for the cigarette back. He got it and held it up to his mouth, leaning on the high wall that separated them from the empty space above the street. Ziraphon, himself, had sat straddling that wall on many an occasion. Not to jump, that would be foolish and painful, but to feel the specific feeling one can only feel with his legs dangling off of somewhere very high up.

The sudden comment sent Ziraphon into a flinch, and he took in a steep breath. “I don’t remember.”

“Bullshit, Aziraphon.”

“You know it’s Ziraphon.”

“Yeah, I sure do. What’s on your mind?” The demon asked, turning his head only a little.

“Sex, drugs, crippling depression. Nothing new.” Ziraphon snorted. “Besides, can’t a fucker just enjoy a vice in silence?” He asked, reaching for the cigarette only for the other demon to snatch it back out of his reach.

“Not when that fucker looks like he’s contemplating jumping. Tell me what’s wrong.” He insisted.

“It’s nothing-”

“It’s not nothing, Ziraphon, I knew you for six thousand years before I Fell, I know something’s wrong with you.” Ziraphon doesn’t like the casual drop of the time Before he Fell.

“That’s not fair. You know that’s not fair.”

“I’m not gonna apologise.” Corviel replied softly.

“Of course not.” Ziraphon replied, and he turned his head away, wiping at his eyes that had begun to form tears despite his best efforts.

After Corviel had Fallen- and truly fallen, completed the transformation and all- it had been. . . heart crushing. He’d begun acting different, but that was to be expected. He was more closed off. Bitter. Downright cold, at times. It had been scary, but nothing compared to the day he’d snapped.

_Hi babe-_ Ziraphon had begun, cheerful as always.

_Ziraphon, I’m sick of this_. The Fallen angel replied from behind the counter.

_What?_

_I said, Ziraphon, I’m fucking sick of this_. His voice raised.

_Alright, well, what can I_-

_You are a demon. We are both demons. Have some self respect, already_. Corviel groaned. _No more of that mushy talk. I am not your angel anymore, Ziraphon._

_ That’s alright, Corviel, we can figure it out_. Ziraphon’s anxiety was beginning, like hammering or war drums from far away coming to destroy a kingdom built on fragile foundations. With every beat of the heart that he didn’t need, the drumming sounded louder in his ears.

_Ziraphon, I am not the same person. I’ve been trying my damndest to let you down gently. You listen to this, because it’s the first and the last damn time I’ll tell you: I am not in love with you as I was. We don’t work together anymore. It’s over._ The Fallen angel returned to the newspaper he’d borrowed as he finished, the last two words piercing Ziraphon, the fear and anxiety dripping down his spine and his backbone.

_Just. . . Just like that, huh?_ The demon asked, trying to stop his voice from shaking.

_It was over the day I Fell, Ziraphon. You know that_. Corviel sighed. _I’m not the same man. I don’t even know if I can love anymore. But I certainly don’t love you. You can stop hanging on to every word I say, now. I’m turning you free, got it?_

_But I don’t want to be set free! I want you_. Ziraphon admitted, trying to keep himself together.

I _want to be set free, Ziraphon. I can’t have you around anymore. It’s over, understand? You’re just reminding me of my old self and it’s getting rather annoying. I’m a new being, and you need to understand that._

_Right_. He gulped. _Right_, he repeated, more conviction in his voice. _Of course. I’ll just. . . I’ll be leaving._

And, despite everything in his body, he went.

He left and sat in his car, staring blankly at the steering wheel. He’d just been dumped. By his love. Or, well, he supposed he wasn’t his love anymore. He sat for a long time, trying, somewhat, not to cry. After a while, that stopped working, and he just let himself sob, nearly screaming, at the realization that six thousand years of love was ending just like that. His love story had come to a close, and he’d only just been allowed to enjoy it.

“Ziraphon.” Corviel sighed.

“You’re concerning me.”

“Oh, you’re concerned now?” Ziraphon asked, scowling.

“That’s not fair, Ziraphon. You know I’ve cared.” Corviel’s face dropped into an expression that was a bit too close to a scowl for his own tastes. “I just. . . it’s hard to express that.”

Ziraphon understood. He sighed and he hung his head.

“S’pose it was just things about us.” He finally spoke up, and Corviel passed him the cigarette as a dull reward.

“What about us?”

“Well, your Fall, I guess. Terrifying shit. Existential shit.”

“You could say that.” Grunted the other demon in return. “That’s not really my favored memory, either.”

“After all the amazing sex we had? I’d hope it isn’t.” Ziraphon joked weakly.

“Yeah, sure, of course.” Corviel chuckled dryly, rolled his eyes.

Ziraphon tried to smile in return, but it died before it reached his lips. He tried to talk and the words died before he spoke them. He settled for a long drag of the cigarette instead.

“Wanna tell me why?”

“Not really. I don’t know. Fucking hell,” He talked over himself, and then stabilized himself with a long breath, one not filtered through tobacco and chemicals. “We’re not having this conversation. I’m not drunk, I’m not high, there’s no excuse.” He refused to meet the other demon’s golden eyes.

“Maybe I care.”

“Yeah, sure, fucking maybe, over your own discorporated body.” Ziraphon snorted, staring at the pavement after the roof ended and the drop began.

“That’s just a dick move.” Muttered the Corviel. “We’ve been friends a long time. After the Fall I mean, not. . . you know.”

“Yeah, it took me six thousand years to open up the first time, not doing that again for about a millenia and a half. And besides, you’re not meant to care. Surely you see that I’m an irredeemable prick now, right?”

“Oh, bullshit. You might be an irredeemable prick but you’re m- well, we all are. I’m not much better.” Corviel swallowed habitual retorts of you possessiveness. He’d ended that relationship over four thousand years ago. He had no right of possessiveness, and neither demon had made an effort to hold back from various earthly pleasures to try and control the pain. Neither of them made any efforts to hide this, but neither of them talk about it. It feels forbidden to Corviel, even if he’s unpromised, even if he’s a creature of sin. To Ziraphon, it’s a test to see if he’ll ever stop thinking about Corviel like his promised, like they’ll have a spring wedding and he’ll wear the most scandalous dress to the afterparty.

He won’t. He’s given up on that.

“Yeah, doesn’t mean you have to hang with me.” Ziraphon attempted to block out the beginning of the possessive saying that had, thankfully, been caught. He wasn’t doing a good job.

“Well, I am anyways, so deal with it.” Corviel shrugged.

“Corviel, why are you doing this to me?” Ziraphon asked, a little too much force used as he spun to face his companion. “Why, after you tore my heart out of my fucking chest, are you still here??”

“Because why would I leave?”

_Hey_.

_What the fuck do you want_? Ziraphon was staring at the pavement again, sat on some bench, hoping that someone stabbed him or something. Corviel’s voice was not welcome, not after what he said a month ago.

_A drink, mostly_. The newer demon sat next to Ziraphon, tucking his hands into his lap.

_Then go get one, you don’t need my permission_. The reply was bitter.

_Alright, let me rephrase. A drink with you_.

_Why_? He asked, shaking a curly haired head. _After all, it’s_ over.

_Doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends_?

_Fucking doesn’t it, Corviel_? The name, loaded with venom, hurt to say. He didn’t like saying it with such disdain, but Corviel had earned it well and truly.

Maybe he shouldn’t say that, he thought. Maybe he was overreacting. He didn’t take the hints, but. . . No. No, he was angry. He’d earned a little anger, he thinks. Six thousands years, six thousand years of love and pining. Six thousand years where ZIraphon would have done anything for Corviel. Ziraphon would have let Corviel use him for pleasure without love, would’ve taken an oath to never speak about it, if it meant he was closer to Corviel in any way. A taste of what he craved. He had an imagination, he could delude himself. . . at least for a short while. And it would be a short amount of moments that he could carve out a nearly-happy life from, had Corviel ever gone for it. He wanted that. But he’d never get it, and now that Corviel had Fallen, had become so distinctly different, he didn’t have a chance in hell or heaven, and especially not on Earth. The fact that he’d had a short time where there was mutual and open love, where they declared their love so often was now bitter and painful to handle.

He was angry, and he was sure he would be until he finally decided enough was enough and snuck into a church for the last time.

_Listen, I need somebody to help me get through being a demon_. Corviel sighs.

_Oh wow, it’s almost like someone fucking offered to do that and you ripped their heart into tiny little pieces_. Ziraphon spat. _Listen, you made it loud- and- fucking clear that you don’t want anything to do with me anymore. Just let me wallow in my despair in the peace I deserve_.

_I can’t just let you wallow. I might not be able to love you, but I still need a friend. And, for what it’s worth. . . I’m sorry I yelled_.

Ziraphon could hear the strain in Corviel’s voice. It was against his new nature as a demon to be apologetic.

_‘S fine_. Grunted Ziraphon.

_So, will you come to get a drink?_

_. . . . Maybe someday else_. Ziraphon stood up. _I’ll see you around, Corviel._

The stunned silence that followed left a deep pit in Ziraphon’s stomach as he walked away, knowing that the way they ended the encounter was as unsatisfactory as the last one.

“I don’t know, maybe because you could go on to do bigger and better things without me.” Ziraphon shrugged in the present.

“No, I couldn’t. I can’t do much of anything without you. You’re the only other immortal that can stand me.” The tone that Corviel replied in was nearly sad.

“So?” Snapped ZIraphon. “No need to be around if it’s torture.”

“It’s not torture, stupid.” Corviel snapped back. “You are a good friend to me, even if you don’t think so.”

“How? How?”

“. . . Because even though I tore your heart out, you’re still here because I asked you to be my friend again.”

Ziraphon was stunned at that, venomous reply dying in his throat. Why was he still around? Why did he still know that he’d lay down his life for Corviel? Why does he still wish for another high, hazy kiss, knowing that when they come down, he will be alone again? Why would he still let Corviel walk all over him if he wanted? Because he was still in love? Because his lust could still be felt? Because ten thousand years of love wouldn’t just leave?? He hated it. Why didn’t he just move the fuck on???

“Because you’re the only person I can manage to be with without feeling like I’m going to die, or kill myself.” Corviel continued. “You’re keeping me alive, and you haven’t even known it.”

Ziraphon couldn’t rouse himself from silence.

“You know, the day I went and found you, after I yelled at you, I was so glad I could see you again. I had been. . .” Corviel inhaled deeply. “So. . . scared by all the shit in my body and everything. I was worried.”

“You’re a demon. You shouldn’t do that shit.” He managed.

“What, worry? You know that if there’s one thing demons do, it’s fucking worry.” Corviel scoffed.

“I- that’s- yeah.”

“You know, for a century, I was suicidal as hell. Pun rather intended.” He laughed, like this was a joke, but he was avoiding eye contact now. “It was when you were ignoring me, you know, and I was burning, and I hated it, and I didn’t have anyone to be near.”

_Surprised you actually showed up_. Corviel looked like he’d already been drinking, and Ziraphon shrugged, sitting at the bar he’d been invited to.

_Figure I can’t dodge you forever_. He replied. He couldn’t bear stay sober around the new demon.

_Good choice_. Corviel grinned, and ordered something that he knew Ziraphon liked.

Ziraphon hated that Corviel knew things about him. Like his favorite drinks. That irked him, that this man- his ex, he realized weakly for the millionth time this century- who had ripped him into shreds was able to order exactly what he was about to order off a menu he’d never seen before.

_I can order for myself_. He glares.

_I know. Chivalry isn’t dead_.

_So fucking funny. _

_I know_. The encounter faded to silence and they drink quietly for the rest of the evening.

They parted awkwardly at the end of the night, and Ziraphon went home, unable to tell is he was going to laugh or cry, unable to tell if the drink had been needed or was only hurting more.

“But I managed to weedle my way into you coming back to me. I’m just lucky, I guess.” Corviel shrugged.

“I- coming back to you?” Had something changed he wasn’t aware of?

“I mean, obviously, as a friend. Square one. Yaaay! Except I already fucked it up, I know that much. And I’m sorry. I thought I would be better off alone, not trying to act like nothing happened and I just pushed you away like you meant nothing and I finally understood why you use humor to cope- I- I know what sulfur and burning really means and it's terrifying, and you're so much stronger than me to have gotten through this all alone, I don't- I can't get through this alone, I needed you to help me, Ziraphon, I couldn't get through this alone, and I was so fucking stupid to have just pushed you away when you were all I had left. I thought I could stand it on my own.” Slowly, Corviel seemed to devolve into the ranting mess of an angel he used to be. All the layers of anger and cockiness slid off of him before Ziraphon’s eyes and there was Corviel, his nervous love that he used to cuddle to make him better. There was someone that had just been freed from four thousand years of guarded moments.

“Corviel.” Ziraphon, for the first time in centuries, reached out a hand, placing it on Corviel’s shoulder, reaching his arm across the back of his neck.

“I’m so scared, Ziraphon. I have been for so long.” Corviel cried, sobs racking his body now as Ziraphon put out the cigarette and pulled Corviel into a proper hug, and Corviel cried into Ziraphon’s shoulder.

“Corviel. . .” The name was painful to say, trying to say so many things in three syllables.

“I’m so sorry. I drove you away. I know you probably hate me still but-”

“Corviel. Shut the fuck up. Haven’t you figured it out yet? I can’t hate you. Even if I tried, I’d fail.” Ziraphon tightened his grip on Corviel, taking fistfuls of shirt. “Even when you hurt me, I can only blame myself.”

Corviel’s sobs shook both of them now, the vulnerability something that neither of them were quite used to anymore.

After a long time- neither were sure exactly sure how long- Corviel picked his head up, and stared at Ziraphon for a moment.

“I miss us.” Corviel admitted quietly, a secret he’d kept for far too long.

“I miss us too.” Ziraphon replied, matching Corviel’s volume.

If logic was a factor, one of them should suggest getting back together. They should both say something. They should work on it, talk to each other. They should be the bigger people, recognize what they wanted.

This was ignored. Logic had no place in them, right now. Logic could say any number of things- logic had, after all, had driven Ziraphon out of his own home, leaving his love behind. Ziraphon just held Corviel, shaking breaths and shaking hands betraying him as he stared at Corviel. Corviel, who through so much, had stayed with him.

Ziraphon was trying not to do anything rash, trying not ruin a moment he wasn’t sure he’d get close to ever again, as if time would stop and not carry him further from this one action, the feeling of Corviel in his arms again. The feeling of lungs expanding and of hearts beating, even though they didn’t need to, was just enough to drag him back to the moment.

“I miss us.” Corviel repeated, and tried not to cry again. Tears hurt, tears reminded him he was vulnerable and as a demon, that was the most terrifying truth to be reminded of.

“I know.” Ziraphon could only offer that, two words of endless meaning, that hurt to say.

Though, he figured, everything hurts to say when your body aches of longing.

“Are we. . .”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.” Corviel rested his head on Ziraphon’s shoulder. This was safe, this meant no eye contact. It felt so unfair that Ziraphon’s eyes were so protected. Corviel knew every moment of emotion could be read in his eyes, knew that there was no way to avoid it but this.

And this went on, for perhaps too long, sitting in the relative cold of the night on that roof, Ziraphon holding Corviel, who had no words to say. And it took, perhaps, too long for Corviel to straighten up, to open his mouth to try and offer words, some turning point, some solace, some something.

Ziraphon touched a finger to Corviel’s lips, and then leaned forward, pressing his own lips to Corviel’s, in a leap of faith, in an uncharacteristic display of boldness. To his surprise, Corviel kissed back, and for the moment, in that moment of the taste of cigarettes and sulfur on shared lips, Ziraphon knew that, for a little while, they might be okay again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! And if you're interested, I could continue this but as it stands. . . I think it's good for now :3


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